


The Curse of Captain Morgan.

by WeeCookiexD



Category: Original Work
Genre: Curses, Gen, Horror, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeCookiexD/pseuds/WeeCookiexD
Summary: Loosely based on the Alestorm song Captain Morgan’s Revenge.Not Beta Read.





	The Curse of Captain Morgan.

Every year since I could remember my grandmother would tell my siblings and I the story about the curse of Captain Morgan. Hearing the story of the dreaded Captain curse his crew during a mutiny fascinated me, I grew to love pirates and would even go on to study them. I remember when I reached my teens, I asked her why she always told us the same story, her answer had been _‘you’ll understand one day’_ , the day she died I finally understood why.

My siblings had never cared for the story, silly superstitions and childish ghost stories were their excuses, my parents had been the same, but I knew that wasn’t the case. When my father met the same end as my grandmother this proved to me the tail was more than just another ghost story.

During my time studying The Golden Age of Piracy I discovered Captain Morgan to be more than a mere ghost story my grandmother likes to tell. He was a notorious pirate feared by all. Every history book I looked at contained stories centred around the mutiny and his curse. I spent hours poring over family trees, tracking my family all the way back to the mid 1600’s had been a difficult task.

My findings proved useful, I discovered one of my ancestors had served aboard the Dark Deceit and had taken part in the mutiny against the feared pirate Captain Morgan. There were many detailed accounts of that night the mutiny took place; each account had the curse of Captain Morgan written differently. There was one account I came by that was from an old newspaper that had been archived, dated the day my ancestor had met the gallows, his last words had been recorded to be _‘the only way to break this curse, is for us all to die.’_

Like her I told my children the story of Captain Morgan. As children they loved hearing the story over and over, but like my siblings they grew out of believing. When they were grown and had children of their own, I would tell them the story, like my grandmother before me.

That’s how I found myself sitting in an old chair in my grandchildren's room. Both my grandsons were tucked up in their beds, their eyes fixed on myself, eager to hear the story. A single lit candle stood on the dresser between their beds, the flame flickering in the non-existent wind. The wind howled outside the window, blowing the trees back and forth.

“It was 1715, the Dark Deceit was bound for Port Royal after a successful haul taken from a Spanish galleon. One night the crew found themselves lost in barren seas, with no wind to carry their sails nor any hope of survival, whispers of a mutiny began to ruse the crew. Together the men cut down those of rank and with swords drawn forced the Captain to walk the plank. As the Captain fell down to the depths, he swore a deadly curse _‘as sure as hell’s my final fate, you’ll all soon die or worse’._

The men were overcome with grieve when they returned to port. Misfortune followed them on every quest, only to feel despair was their final fate. The men had broken the piratical laws, betrayed the code with their unforgivable offence.

Many years passed, yet the curse still lived on, half the men involved in the mutiny of Captain Morgan had met an unfortunate end. It was said the curse of Captain Morgan had claimed them. Those who still lived rotted in cold, dark, wet prison cells waiting for their date with the gallows.”

_‘For those they left behind were met with the same unfortunate end.’_ I always made sure never to tell the children the last bit, where the curse claimed everyone who was descended from the mutinous crew. They were still too young to know the truth, that one day Captain Morgan would be coming for me to. I bid my grandsons goodnight and retired to my son's living room where I awaited his return.

“Hey, how were they?” My son Henry asked as he nudged me awake, I couldn’t recall falling asleep.

“They were great Henry, they ate their dinner, cleaned up their toys and they even asked me to tell them a story before bed.” Henry chuckled at his as he moved to sit his back completely against the back of the couch.

“Yeah? What Story?” His eyes slid closed as he awaited my reply.

“The curse of Captain Morgan.” He scowled his eyes bursting open to glare at me.

“Why must you fill their heads with fairy tales ma?” He asked, clearly annoyed. Henry had stopped believing in Captain Morgan when he was still a child, even after the pirate captain claimed his grandfather, he refused to believe.

“You know why Henry.” He rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, look I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” Sighing, I nodded, ever since he stopped believing in the curse, I knew it would take my death to make him believe again.

“Goodnight son.” I kissed his forehead and left. The weather had picked up significantly since my little nap, water sloshed onto the curbs as cars sped by, the wind roared shaking trees enough for them to surrender their leaves.

I climbed into my car with ease and started the engine, pulling out of the driveway I slowly made my way out of the street and began to head home. The rain battered the windscreen, exploding upon impact with the glass shielding me from the water. The hum of the engine was drowned out by the thump of the wipers and the rain pelting down on the car roof.

I stopped at the intersection waiting for the red light to change, my eyes drifted to the rear-view mirror after checking both side mirrors. I froze in my seat as my eyes met the empty darkened eyes of the monster I’d grown to know as Captain Morgan. His skeletal hand reached out for me, a haunting sound escaping his throat as I screamed for dear life.

Something hitting my window brought me out of whatever trance I was in, a man was knocking on my window shouting over the roar of the wind. I looked back to the rear-view mirror whispering to myself _‘Mary mother of god’._ I rolled down my window enough to hear what the man was asking of me.

“Ma’am are you okay?” Afraid to speak I merely nodded my reply. “You’re sure, cause ma’am you were screaming.”

“I am son, thank you for checking on me.” With that I rolled the window back up. The lights had long since turned green, I took the rest of the drive home easy, frequently checking the mirror for the ghostly figure of Captain Morgan. As fate would have it, Captain Morgan would claim my life tonight.

After parking the car up I made sure it was locked and rushed inside to take shelter from the rain. Making my way through the living room, I entered the kitchen and went straight for the liquor cabinet. Pulling both a glass and the bottle from the cupboard I graciously filled the glass with the brown liquid before reaching for the notepad on the bunker.

Scribbling out a short note for my son if he should find me. Taking a mouthful from the glass I closed my eyes as I felt the smooth liquid travel down my throat. When my eyes opened, they lingered on the bottle for a moment, it only seemed fitting to have a drink that shared its name with my pursuer.

“Yer times up” Shivers travelled the full length of my spine upon hearing that dark gravelly voice that I knew all too well belonged to none other than Captain Morgan. The glass gave a soft clink as I settled it back down on the bunker.

“Promise you’ll make it quick?” There was movement behind me, from the sound of metal sliding against metal Morgan had unsheathed his cutlass.

“Oh, it’ll be quick, you can thank ye ancestor for that” The thud of his boot colliding with the wooden floor echoed through the room as the Captain advanced towards me. Thud, I’d been waiting my entire life for this moment yet I found myself completely frozen, unable to turn to face him. I listened to his footsteps, thud.

“Did you kill them all?” I found myself asking, thud. 

“Yes” Thud.

“Why?” Thud.

“Because no one betrays me and gets away with it.” Thud. I reached for the glass; I jerked my hand back as the tip of his cutlass slapped the back of my hand. I could feel his cold razor like breath on my neck as he spoke. “Any last words lass?”

“No, I’m ready” My eyes slid closed as I waited for the end.


End file.
